


God, Grant Me the Serenity

by gossipseer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcoholism, emetophobia tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gossipseer/pseuds/gossipseer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night of hosting a huge party, a recently sober Roxy finds Rose in a crumpled heap in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God, Grant Me the Serenity

Roxy was warm, curled up between Jake and Jane. Roxy was happy, half asleep.

Roxy heard a very familiar noise.

She checked the clock. 4AM. Groaning to herself, she contemplated letting herself just get back to sleep. She would deal with it in the morning. Unfortunately for her circadian rhythm, she decided to be the bigger person. 

She gingerly climbed over Jane, snoring gently, put her pants on (who the hell wears pants before 11AM), and slowly made her way to the bathroom, bracing herself for the inevitable sight.

She wasn't, however, prepared for the inevitable smell. It was as if everything she had ever known suddenly dissolved into the overpowering stench of vomit and jet fuel. In the middle of the room, blonde hair halfway down the S-bend, sat Rose in a heap. In between heaves, a symphony of hiccups and sobs. 

“Oh honey...” Roxy said, mostly to herself. She took a second to steel herself before dropping down to her knees and rubbing Rose's back. “Oh love, you can't keep doing this to yourself.”

“I won't. This is the last time 'm ever drinking,” Rose slurred, her voice echoing slightly in the toilet bowl.

“Do you really mean that?” Roxy asked, skeptically.

“I do. I mean it. I'll quit, I'll go to AA, I'll dump out all the alcohol in the house, I'll become a nun. I'll--” Rose's frantic rambling was cut off by yet another round of puking. Roxy was struggling. This was such a familiar scene, that she was beginning to be stumped as to what would actually get through to her little sister anymore. 

“I'll be right back,” Roxy said after sitting in heart-wrenching silence, trying to figure out the best tactic. If she was speechless, she was at least going to be helpful. She went downstairs to the kitchen for some crackers and ginger ale. As she was leaving, a lump on the floor moved and Roxy practically screamed. A pale arm reached out and grabbed a used tissue from the massive pile on the floor. Roxy recognized the perfectly coiffed hair peeking out over the blanket, registered the gentle crying, but told herself there was already too many fires to put out tonight to deal with Kanaya, too. Those are pieces Rose would have to pick up for herself in the morning.

Back in the bathroom, Roxy put the food and drink on the floor next to Rose and sat down, still mulling over what to say next. 

“How the fuck didja do it?” Rose mumbled, suddenly.

“What?”

“How did you get out of this hole? It feels like you just--” Rose tried to snap her fingers but somehow missed-- “suddenly got better. You stopped drinking and didn't look back. That's not fair, how is that fair?”

“Rose, it wasn't easy at all. For one, I spent more money than I ever did on alcohol on the cigarettes I chain-smoked on the roof for the first 3 months. I had to deal with Mom being... Well, Mom. I had cravings and bad nights and I'd be lying if I said I didn't take Mom's glass when she left the room and take a big, deep whiff every sometimes.”

“So then how did you do it.” Rose repeated, beginning to cry again.

“I scared myself shitless. It's not what I'd recommend, TBH. I scared everyone. I lost most of the friends I made in school. Half of them because my drinking terrified them, and the other half because I stopped being fun when I didn't have vodka in my Snapple at 9 in the morning. Well, it's not half-and-half. It's more like a venn diagram thingy. The people who told me I had a problem got bored of me when the problem went away.”

Rose sat in contemplation for a little more, opened her mouth to speak, and then promptly stuck it back in the toilet. Trying to distract herself from the sounds, Roxy looked around the room and noticed the mountain of pillows in the bathtub. “Were you planning on sleeping in here? You know you have your own bed, right? You live here, too.”

Rose raised her head to reply, but was immediately pulled back down to resume heaving. “Take your time,” Roxy said, gently, stroking Rose's back again. 

“'S my own fault,” Rose finally mumbled, lifting her head from the toilet.

“What is?” Roxy asked.

“Don't deserve a bed. I messed everything up with Kandaya. I'm a drunk catasstrophe.”

Roxy took a second; she didn't want to lie. “You... You deserve a bed, Rosie.”

“You're the worst fucking sister, you know.”

Of all the potential responses to that sentiment, that certainly wasn't the one Roxy expected. She stammered for a few seconds, blindsided. Rose just drove on without letting her get a toehold on a word. 

“You let people B Y their own B's to parties at our own house. Knowing I have a porblem. Knowing YOU do. Doesn't it upset you that you're enabling your own sister?”

Deep down, Roxy knew she had a point. She'd failed. She was too caught up in living vicariously through her friends that she didn't take care of Rose. Never one to admit defeat, however, she merely retorted “It doesn't count if you're just sneaking away and filling a flask in Mom's bedroom every hour!”

“Why not? It's what you did, isn't it?” Rose began raising her voice, finding the strength to stand, her anger bringing some lucidity. “GOD sometimes I'm just so jealous of you. You got it out of your system early. You learned your limits and got to be NORMAL again, and you still won't tell me how you did it, you fucking vodka witch.”

Roxy was finally starting to lose her patience. She rose to her feet to match Rose's piercing gaze. “God, you know what? I have no effing clue what to do with you anymore! No matter what advice I give you, you still just get drunk anyway and ignore everything I told you. The fact that you have no idea how I got sober just shows how little attention you've been paying. And you're really jealous of me? I don't remember middle school. The memories I do have are of cleaning mom's puke off the couch again and again. So you wouldn't have to see it. I was so upset about the idea I would grow up to be her, I became her before I got a chance to grow up. I want my childhood back, Rose. You got to have one. Fuck, I GAVE you one. And you thank me by becoming just like us. I had high hopes for you, Rose, but instead you just throw it back in my face.”

Roxy regretted all that the moment it left her mouth. Rose had an excuse, she was blasted. Roxy was just sober and mean. Rose fell back to the floor and began crying again. She mumbled something that Roxy couldn't quite hear. She knelt down to Rose's level and asked her to repeat it.

“I don't want to be like you.” Rose said, staring straight ahead, her eyes determined but glassy.

“Then don't be,” Roxy replied quietly. Rose frowned and opened the ginger ale. They sat together, sharing the crackers, for what felt like hours before somebody could speak again. 

“You're not Mom, y'know,” Rose said out of the blue, catching Roxy off-guard.

“I... Thank you.” 

After the silence was broken, they stayed up for the next few hours just talking. Roxy shared horror stories of her most drunken escapades. She didn't know if they were to cheer Rose up or scare her straight, but either way it seemed to be working. It had been a while since the two of them had had such a genuine connection, so when Rose reestablished her desire to quit drinking, Roxy finally believed her. Roxy led Rose back to her room and helped her get into bed. She left a trashcan and glass of water next her, just in case, and then went up to the roof to chain-smoke her feelings.

A few hours later, Roxy woke again, smiling this time. The sense memory of the smells of being trapped in that bathroom was replaced with pure pancake. She went into the kitchen to find most of the partygoers standing around in the kitchen, stuffing their faces. Kanaya was nowhere to be seen. Rose was in the middle of the room, huge bags and broken capillaries under her eyes, her hair an absolute mess, and a massive smile on her face. Roxy couldn't help but grin along as she stepped into the kitchen and got herself a plate.

“Roxy! Roxy Roxy Roxy!” Rose practically skipped over. “There has been an absolute miracle.”

Roxy lowered her voice and leaned into Rose. “You took the talk we had to heart?”

“What? What talk?”, asked Rose, a little too loudly. In this moment, Roxy realized she had made one of the biggest mistakes her sobriety had seen: she'd let herself get her hopes up. Rose furrowed her brow at Roxy for a second before plowing on, waving her glass of orange juice in the air victoriously, spilling a little on the floor. “Despite there only being cats in this house, I found some hair of the dog!”

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly vent fic about my own issues with alcoholism tbh, but I thought I'd share.


End file.
